


October 18th

by rebeccakbaa



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/F, Femlock, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 15:57:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5592352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebeccakbaa/pseuds/rebeccakbaa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>October 18th every year for 15 years in the lives of Joan Watson and Sherlock Holmes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

October 18th, 2014.

Her limbs felt sluggish in the water. She could see the surface above her, but knew that she wouldn't be able to get to the surface on time. She could feel herself slowly being dragged down further into the ocean, and decided to just let herself be pulled down. It was the easier option after all, and she was so tired. Her lungs were burning, but it was easy to ignore them in the grand scheme of things. The sounds of the world above were muted, but she could dimly hear a siren and someone screaming. 

Her last thought before it all went dark was one word:

Sherlock.


	2. 1999

The sun was absolutely merciless. Her clothes were sticking to her back, and her hair to the nape of her neck and forehead. A quick glance at Lucy showed to to be in a similar state of sweaty sleepiness. Joan forced herself up onto her elbows and then to her feet. Lucy quirked a lazy eyebrow in question at her. "Study" was all Joan said as an explanation, pulling down her grey, knee-length skirt and tying the navy jumper around her waist. Lucy nodded in reply, shutting her eyes and went back to dozing peacefully.

Joan strolled across the schoolyard and into the main buliding. Everywhere, students demonstrated signs of being affected by the ridiculous weather. It was October for god's sake! They should be taking out hats and scarves and preparing for winter, but no. Instead, Joan was surrounded by teenage girls in various states of undress, with shirts shucked up around their midriffs and sleeves rolled up to above their elbows. She pushed her short hair back from her head irritably, feeling it stick up but not having enough energy to care. A very select few students in Saint Annes College put effort into their appearance any more, what with the heat resulting in any make-up being sweated off by break anyway. She pushed open the heavy door and slouched off in the direction of her dorm.

*******

Sherlock was bored. She lay back on the bed and pulled a long drag from her cigarette. Mummy was cross, again. Not even a month into this new school, and already words like 'suspension' and 'expulsion' were being thrown about. Only empty words of course, for the moment, but how long would they stay empty? Irrelevant, she would just be moved to a different location, but essentially the exact same environment. She released the smoke from her lips, watching the pattern it formed in the air. Boring. Nothing new to learn. She took a deep breath. Breathing consists of two stages : inspiration and expiration. During inspiration the diaphragm and external intercostal muscles contract, and the diaphragm moves downward which increases the volume of the thoracic cavity. The external intercostal muscles pull the ribs up and out, forcing the ribcage to expand and further increasing the chest volume. And out. The diaphragm and intercostal muscles relax, the thoracic cavity is restored to it's original volume, forcing air out into the atmosphere. And in. Diaphragm and external intercostal muscles contract, diaphragm moves downward, thoracic cavity's volume expands, intercostal muscles force ribcage to expand. And out. Diaphragm and intercostal muscles relax, thoracic cavity shrinks back down and air is released. And in. Contract, chest and ribs expand. And out, muscles relax, chest decreases in volume, air is released. So frightfuly dull. There was nothing to do here. She took a shaky drag from her cigarette again and repressed the urge to scream in frustration. Adgitated, she pushed herself up from her bed and began to pace, attempting to run an unsteady hand through her messy shoulder-length curls, but her hand got caught in a knot halfway down them. She stubbed out her cigarette, snatched up her violin and began to saw away at it angrily. It started off a fortissimo, staccato attempt at Bach's Concerto in A Minor BWV 1041, but soon descended into a flurry of loud, piercing notes.

She wasn't sure how long she had been at this, it felt like only a few minutes but she had a tendency to get caught up in her head and lose track of huge amounts of time, when she was brought sharply back to reality by a series of loud bangs, as if someone was punching rather than knocking on the door. She stormed over to the door, threw it open and marched back to her violin. "What?" She barked, restarting the dying cat imitation.

There was no instant response, rather a few moments of somehow furious silence before a shaky voice began "Do you know .... how hard it is ... to try and study with that Infernal Racket blasting in the background???

The whole time the girl was speaking her voice was growing exponentially in volume, to the point where by the time she finished speaking she was shouting. Sherlock dropped her arm so her violin was banging against her thjgh and spun on her heel to face the girl. She seemed rather average. Roughly 5"6, slightly overweight if her breathing was any indication, long light brown hair (unwashed, she slept in that morning. Probably due to the fact she stayed up late last night on the phone with her boyfriend, who seems to be in denial about the fact he's gay. Dull.) Bitten nails to the point where they are about to bleed (She's stressed. Either over the exams at the end of the year, or the fact that her parents are divorcing and are fighting for custody of her - no, no she's 18. Custody of a younger sibling - sister perhaps?) Starting to frown (Confusion? Uncertain. Need more data) Fists begin to clench (Ah. Not confused, angry. Beyond angry if the shade of her face is anything to go by. Hm. Seems to be growing steadily angrier. Why? Is there some sort of stimulant in the room which disagrees with her? No, the room is identical to her own. Curious. What is causing her to lose control over her emotions like this? No apparent reason so far. Perhaps it's because-

"It's because you're speaking out loud, you idiot!"

Sherlock blinked in surprise. Why would that make the girl angry? She voiced her confusion.

"Why would that anger you? I've only stated some facts of your life and situation. Surely you're not so obtuse as to be ignorant of everything I said."

The girls face went a fascinating shade of magenta. She began to splutter indignantly. It was initially amusing, but Sherlock quickly tired of the girls display. She turned away again, and raised her instrument.

"If you'd be so kind as to close your door on the way out, you're letting a draft in." And with that, she began to play loudly again.

Annoyingly, the girl didn't leave straight away. She spluttered some more before marching over to Sherlock, grabbing her arm and forcibly turning Sherlock to face her. "I won't be so kind, actually, I've come here for a reason, and I won't leave until you've stopped!" She seemed triumphant now, for some reason. Sherlock couldn't see why, it wasn't like she had achieved something.

"What do you want, then?"

The girl blinked owlishly at her. Surely she couldn't be so moronic as to have forgotten her point so soon. "What. Do. You. Want?" Sherlock grit out, feeling herself become angry herself at the girl's ineptitude. 

The girl puffed up her chest and guestured wildly in the direction of Sherlock's violin. "I've come to put an end to ... to ... to that!" She exclaimed, looking Sherlock square in the eye and putting her hands on her hips. Sherlock stared back at her and waited for the girl to continue. After a pause she deflated a little, and her voice lost some of it's obnoxious volume. "Er well ... you see I ... well I'm -we're all trying to study - exams, you see, - and you're making quite a lot of noise and ... disruptive and ... yes."

Sherlock scrutinised her for a minute, before looking away in a clear sign of dismissal. "Put your headphones on,or what have you. I need to practise." She then began to play as loud as possible, so as to drown out any other protests the girl might have. She shouted at Sherlock for a while, before storming off, screaming for someone else. Sherlock smirked and played on. Well, that was an amusing distraction if nothing else.

Eventually though, the insufferable girl returned. Only this time, she returned with reinforcements. Sherlock realised this when her violin was yanked off her by a short blonde girl with a prefect badge. This second girl looked Sherlock up amd down while worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. Then she looked toward the first girl. "What seems to be the problem here, Polly?" Pauline straight away launched herself into a dramatic retelling of what happened earlier. Sherlock, bored with what was going on, through herself onto her bed with a huff and listened to the retelling disinterestedly. All the while, though, she felt the eyes of the shorter girl on her. After Patricia finished her story, Sherlock waited for the inevitable punishments to start being thrown at her. 

"What's your name?"

Sherlock twisted around to see the blonde prefect had directed the question at her. She looked back impassively before replying "Sherlock Holmes."

"And Sherlock, do you have anything in particular against Polly's intentions to study?" 

Sherlock cocked her head. "Not as such, no. But I don't see why I should have to stop playing because she chose to natter on to her boyfriend last night instead of studying for her home ec test, resulting in her having to cram now. Besides, she should be in Biology now, not here berating me for practising."

Penelope's eyes widened in shock before she began to hurriedly speak to cover up her embarrassment. "What are you, some kind of ... some kind of stalker? Did you folliw me? How do you know that, you freak! She's got to have stalked me, she knew all this private stuff earlier too. It's psychotic. There's something wrong with her."

That was uninteresting. It was predictable. What was interesting though, was that the other girl didn't join in with Petunia's insults. She just examined Sherlock like she was curious.

"How did you know all that?"

Sherlock blinked at her. Twice. Why was she asking? "I observed it."

The girl tilted her head to one side and furrowed her brow. "You observed it?"

Sherlock nodded. "It was obvious." 

"Obvious?"

Sherlock sighed. "Look at her eyes. She's obviously exhausted. Plus, she slept in this morning - look at the state of her hair. Why? She was up late. Not studying, because if she was why would she be so stressed now? No, she was doing something else. Look at her shirt collar. On the inside there are old foundation marks, maybe from two, three days ago. Why would she wear foundation on her neck but no other make-up? She was covering up a bruise. Now, either she fell over the most awkward way imaginable in the last week and banged up both her knees and a spot on her neck, or she's got a boyfriend. Oh come on, just look at her knees. Now, a teenage girl with a boyfriend who's very insecure - please, her nails and the ends of her hair - and paranoid her boyfriend is cheating on her - you're right by the way, but it's not with the friend you suspect - of course she was forcing him to listen to her dribble last night. And as for the home ec test, well it was either that or the Latin test today, and she doesn't strike me as the type to do Latin, don't you agree?"

It was strange. The girl was smiling at this. "And the Biology class now?"

Sherlock smirked. "Well, there were only two Biology classes today, and I didn't see her in the one earlier."

"But how do you know she does Biology at all?"

"She does Home Ec. Of course she does Biology."

The girl was full on grinning. "Amazing. Absolutely amazing."

Sherlock found herself flushing slightly. The air conditioning musn't be working. "You think?"

"Of course I do, it was extraordinary."

Posy didn't seem to think it was so extraordinary. She was gaping like a fish. "Are you just going to let her get away with this?"

The girl glanced up, as if she had forgotten Posy was even there "Hm? ... oh, yes could you try and tone it down slightly? And Polly .... you should get to Biology, the class is nearly half done."

Posy huffed before turning on her heel and strutting out of the room.

The girl turned to Sherlock, "Are you able to analyse everyone like that?"

Sherlock was surprised. She nodded uncertainly. The girl's face lit up. "Can you do me? ... I mean, what can you see about me? If you don't mind."

Sherlock wasn't sure the girl would find it quite so spectacular after Sherlock 'did' her, but she obliged. 

"You're 17. A prefect in the school and captain of the ... rugby team? You want to go on to study medecine, and are considering joining the army after that. You've a pet dog back at home, and a younger brother. You're mom works in a restaurant and your dad ... isn't there a lot. You've spent a lot of time in central London as a child, but that wasn't were you lived. Relatives from around there, perhaps? And you have an unhealthy dependency on caffeine"

Sherlock wasn't sure why she didn't mention the girl's father's drinking problem. Or the fact that the girl would need to join the army in order to pay for college. She just knew she didn't want to stop the girl from smiling. Interesting.

"That was ... incredible. Simply incredible." Someone called down the hall, and the girl craned her neck at the sound.  
"Ah, shit. Listen, I have to go but that ... that was really something." The girl shook her head and smiled again. She seemed to do that a lot.

"Right, I'll see you later, yeah?" With a quick wave she ran out the door. Sherlock stood watching the space where the girl was before turning back to continue her violin. Before she had even picked up the bow to begin however, the girl stuck her head back around the door. "Sorry, I just remembered. I forgot to introduce myself - I'm Joan." That smile again. "Joan Watson." And with a mock salute, she disappeared off again. 

Sherlock looked down at her violin and started into Brahms Violin Concerto in D Major Opus 77. Hm. Apparently Joan's smile was contagious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! My very first multi-chapter fic!!!! YAY!!!! :D I'm aiming to have 17 chapters (a prologue, a chapter per October 18th for 15 years and an epilogue) and my (possibly over-ambitious) goal is to have this entire fic done in one month! I may not make this deadline, but still. It's the ambition that counts. Welp, I hope you enjoy!


	3. 2000

Joan sighed, running her fingers through her blonde bob. She was absolutely wrecked. Med school was amazing, she knew it would be, but god was it tiring. Wearily, she glanced at her watch. 18:24. Time to head back to her flat, at last.

She stopped in McDonalds on the way back to grab some dinner. It was shit for her, and as a med student she knew that all to well (Ha! A med student!), but it was cheap and quick and tasted good so what the hell. She ambled along the road back to the crappy place she was renting with Mike Stamford, happily munching on her chips and BigMac. The sun was setting and it cast a gorgeous orange glow over the city. Yet again, she marvelled at the fact that she was living in London, on her own, without having to answer to anyone. The freedom was incredible! Scary, yes, but incredible.

Her exhausted euphoria lasted the whole way back to her flat, right up until she switched on the lights and was rewarded with the shock of finding Sherlock sitting on her second hand couch in the dark waiting for her. She gave a muffled scream, and dropped the remainder of her chips on the carpet inside the front door. Sherlock lazily raised her head to eye Joan standing in the entrance.

"Well? Aren't you going to come in?"

Joan pressed her hand against her chest and leaned back against the door frame trying to calm her racing heart. This is what she gets for having a 'high-functioning sociopath' (complete shite, but anyway) for a best friend. She closed her eyes and took a deep, shuddery breath before heading over to the kitchen to make tea for two.

"We've talked about this, Sherlock. No breaking-and-entering without prior warning." 

Sherlock's eyes followed her across the room to the pathetic excuse she had for a 'kitchen'. "I did warn you. You just didn't answer." 

After popping the kettle on Joan spun around and hopped up on the counter. "Was I there when you informed me of this?" Sherlock thought about this for a second. "No."   
"Then you didn't warn me. I have to actually physically acknowledge it in order for me to have been warned in future. Capiche?"

No answer. Sherlock had obviously decided this line of conversation was 'dull', and had internally moved on from it. Joan sighed, and reached up to the press above her head and pulled out a packet of biscuits. She munched on a jammy dodger, while mentally mourning the loss of her chips. "How were your lectures?"

Sherlock made a non-conformative noise. Hm.

"Did you go to your lectures today?"

She threw her hands up in the air and pushed herself up from the couch, beginning to pace. "What's the point? They're all dull anyway. It's not as if anything they were discussing I didn't already know!"

Joan privately thought that the size of her tiny flat was detracting from the drama of Sherlock's pacing. "You can't know that unless you actually go to your lectures," she pointed out, but Sherlock's withering glance make her quickly withdraw from this line of questioning "... or you can know that. But if you don't go to your lectures, you'll flunk the year!"

"I wasn't able to go today, anyway."   
"Oh?"  
"The meddlesome twat kidnapped me."

Ah. That explained the irritation, at least. The kettle finished boiling, and Joan pulled out two migs and started to make them tea. "And what did Mycroft want?"

Sherlock through herself back on the couch, her arm thrown over her eyes dramatically. "Nothing of consequence. When does he ever want to talk about anything important? It was all 'cryptic phrases' this and 'pointless riddles' that. Honestly! He's such a drama queen."

Joan calmly refrained from commenting and brought Sherlock's tea over to her. She placed it far enough away, though, that should Sherlock wave her arm about madly to emphasise a point or to gain more attention, it wouldn't go flying. Unlike most of her family, Joan learned from experience.

"So, nothing important?"

Sherlock grunted. Joan sighed, and moved back to the counter to drink her own tea. Sherlock shifted her arm so she could examine Joan with one eye. "You're tired. You should sleep."

Joan laughed and circled her mug with both hands. "Wish I could, but I've got that assignment due in for the day after tomorrow."

Sherlock moved her arm back to cover both eyes again. "Leave it, you can do it after lunch tomorrow."

Joan shook her head. "Can't, I've a lecture then."

"No, your physiology lecturer has the flu. He won't be coming in tomorrow."

Joan stared at her. No matter how often Sherlock did that, it still made her marvel. "I should still get it done, though. I'd feel better if I got it out of the way."

Sherlock turned onto her side and properly looked at Joan. "You could. Or you could cuddle with me and watch F.R.I.E.N.D.S for a while before having an early night."

Ooh. Now that was tempting. Sensing her victory, Sherlock pressed on. "And, we could drink hot chocolate through Time Outs. Well, you could. I could watch you in mild disgust and not have any."

Damn. She knew all Joan's weak spots. Oh well, might as well save her energy and admit defeat now. "Fine. But we're doing this in our jammies."

Sherlock stood up. Her messy dark curls tumbled down past her shoulders, and her mouth crinkled into a rare genuine Sherlock Holmes smile. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year Guys!!!! Hope you all have a fabulous 2016 and that you manage to actually stick to your resolutions this year. Unlikely, in my case, but I feel I must start off at least with a positive attitude and outlook on the whole thing. Anyway. This is only a short chapter, but I hope you all enjoy! Much love X


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